


bring your quiet mouth closer

by valkyrierising



Category: Korean Drama, 오늘의 탐정 | The Ghost Detective
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Fingerfucking, Ghost Sex, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, misuse of ghost rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 17:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16330094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/pseuds/valkyrierising
Summary: It’s a lesson she learns early on - if she loves someone, they’ll be ripped from her and she’ll always be left in the aftermath, clinging to ghosts.





	bring your quiet mouth closer

**Author's Note:**

> set somewhere in that nebulous state between episodes 21 and 22. title comes from carina round's 'please don't stop.'

It eats at her the rest of the day, that she turned him away the way she did. Guilt is an emotion she’s known for most of her life and up until recently fear joined her, sisters residing in her. They weigh on her and claw at her, especially because it’s _him._ She’s been intimately aware of ghosts, but not in the way she knows now - no, all her ghosts were about the memories of people she had loved that linger long after they left, the feelings they brought up. It hurts that he turned against her and even though it happened quick and it lasted for what seemed like ages, ended as soon as it began, the grip around her neck still lingers.

 

It’s a fact that he’s been the rock she needed in a while that she can finally begin to pick up the pieces. To have him like that and not the Lee Da Il she knew, that shakes her. She doesn’t know if she can bear to stand if she loses him too. Sun Woo is even more dangerous than she realized because she hadn’t known she could do that to him, corrupt him like she’s corrupted others. He couldn’t lose his shot at justice just because he decided to let her join the investigation.

 

Even though it’s best she stay away, she feels bad that she has to and she feels bad that she feels bad about worrying about her life and safety. It wasn’t him in control anyway, but not even he is infallible against her and it makes her so angry that he could be in danger because of her. She had locked up in fear when he had attacked her, when she realized she could have died too, that she lets herself shake and cry in the backseat of Sang sub’s car. Hours later, there’s a scream that crawls up her throat and stays jammed there. It’s not fair that she can take people away from her so quick, that she can destroy her life so easily.

 

She has enough guilt and worry to last her a lifetime, she can’t bear to add Da Il to her list.

It’s a lesson she learns early on - if she loves someone, they’ll be ripped from her and she’ll always be left in the aftermath, clinging to ghosts. She can’t remember a time that hasn’t been filled with worry, ever since she bought the house and put everything into it to make sure Yi Rang had a home, that Yi Rang could look enough for herself for a little bit so she could go on her hiking trip. She tries to love Yi Rang like her mother loved them both, tries to give her enough space to still be young and hides the bill so she won’t be worried about the debt of the house. And when she’s gone she can’t help feel that it’s her fault, that she crushed her too tight even though she knows that’s not the case, it was never the case.

 

So, she has never tried to make friends or interact with others too much, fearing that whoever she loves will be marked to suffer. It works, because she has a house to pay off she works herself to the bone until she’s too tired to stand that she goes home and collapses into sleep to do it all over again tomorrow. She locks that part away and put away the key for the future when loving someone wouldn’t be as dangerous. She doesn’t think she did a very good job though. She shakes those thoughts away and tries to focus on a new plan of attack, try to find Da Il’s body and get Sun Woo out of their lives.

 

She stays in his office, waits for him there for the morning before she moves out into the main area of the agency. It’s become a recurring habit, ever since he told her that she shouldn’t stay alone. She thinks he worries too much about her and not nearly enough for himself and it eats at her. He was half-dead, half-alive because of her, bartered his soul just to keep her safe. She doesn’t want to feel helpless or like a curse to someone.

 

The crick in her neck notifies her that she’s been bent too close to the files, stretches herself out and moves towards the chair. She could take a rest, considering Chae Woon is back in her office and Sang sub is asleep a few rooms over.

 

She feels raw, like a weather rod exposed to many elements. The skin around her neck still feels tender as she stretches, shivering at how Da Il felt so real. The problem is he always feels real to her, that they can touch so easily because they exist in a space where he doesn’t feel like a ghost. He’s been her constant companion this entire time, looking out for her and investigating with her, she’s never been more aware than right now that there’s a clock on his time as a ghost.

 

She uses the leather lounge he has in his office as her point of resting. She’ll sleep for no more than an hour, resting enough before returning to the investigation. She finds a comfortable spot on there and rests, hands between her thighs and tries to doze.

 

Her hands, however, seem to have other thoughts as anticipation bubbles under her skin like champagne bubbles and she needs only to clench her legs and get release. Belatedly, she remembers this is Da Il’s office and feels shame burn through her as her arousal does. She had already opened the can of worms, and she _did_ need the stress relief, the only thing that leaves her is the fact that he could drop by unannounced.

 

She rushes towards the door and locks it, just to be safe. The chaise stirs up her blood, thrill coursing throughout. He felt like safety to her, and he could never hurt her, and she knew that as much as she could lie to herself, she felt something for him that he shared too. Their unusual connection wasn’t something they could exactly undo, something snapping into place when she had made the choice to hold him when she knew he wasn’t alive that allowed them the space they shared. He’s magnetic, even as a specter.

 

She undoes the zipper of her pants to shove them down her hips and places her fingers past her underwear.

 

She thinks of his fingers, the slender length of them filling her as she moves her own inside of her. Her thumb brushes past her center as her forefinger and pointer push deeper within her. She tries not to think of anything else, like she normally does when she’s at her home and is restless. He is her partner, the lead investigator and this is his office and she should feel shame about this. It never comes though, desire burning through her blood like coals in a fire because all she can think about is him while her fingers move faster and how safe he’s made her felt before.

 

If she imagines it, she can feel him by her. It’s strange that his presence is so very clear to her that she had known even when he was dead, but somehow her mind filled in the parts that assumed corporeality. She imagines it clearly in her mind’s eye, red strings jumbled together of their diverging tragedies and the one string that tied them together.

 

His grip is tight; she knows for a fact that he has managed to hold her up before. The touch lingers on her like static always, her being attuned to his. The coolness is a reminder that he isn’t alive, that she couldn’t remember that he felt that way when he was alive. She had known even when she threw him over her that he didn’t run cold. She can feel the chillness of him against the heat that blazes through her thighs and thinks if he were here, it could be better.

 

She wishes he were real and alive, that maybe there could be _something_. But it’s just her mind spinning falsehoods knowing that when this was over, and they had hopefully found his body, there’d be nothing else happening between the two of them. It doesn’t halt her thoughts. She kicks her shoes off, pushes her pants down further as she thinks of a better universe where neither of them are haunted.

 

He finds himself delirious in that room by himself, plagued of his memories from earlier of going like Sun Woo and how he almost hurt Yeo Wool and there was a darker part within that had appeared, that had thought if he’d succeeded he could have Yeo Wool with him and they wouldn’t have to deal with Sun Woo anymore. He shoves the thoughts away from him, thinking that if he ever came back he couldn’t ever let himself hurt her. His vision swims in and out of focus, Yeo Wool appearing in the starbursts and something like a tug pulling him back from this pitiful state of consciousness to a place with Yeo Wool in it.

 

He doesn’t know when she became part of him - a part that he wanted to protect. He thought of the detective agency as a way to do what the police failed to do, scrutinizing details and going over the details until they found the cracks. But she pulled at something inside of him that wanted to push her behind him, hold her close, keep her safe. She felt some way towards him too, remembering when he overheard her confession to Jung Dae. He was pleased that she trusted him more than she trusted him, that she could rely on him.

 

When he arrives, it’s not always noticeable. He comes into focus slow, like an old photograph. Sometimes it takes a way for him to come to when he returns back to the agency. This time it’s different, in the time and the lucidity, like he is being guided. She moves onto her back, her legs falling open as she moves her fingers freely and without abandon. The hairs on her arms go up, an electric presence in the room. She would open her eyes but she’s so close, pinching at her own nipples as she goes after her second orgasm of the evening.

 

He arrives in the office usually to look after the handiwork she leaves on the investigation board. She has a memory of steel, a useful investigator that he thinks it’s only by fate she hadn’t gone into law, that she could do the work she needed to do here. He turns, surveying the room and sees the night that edges at the windows that are almost fully closed. He hears soft noises, turns towards the feeling Yeo Wool and is entranced by the look on her face. He remains still, if only to observe her. He’s seen many of her faces, upset and surprise and dismay and many others, can read her like his own thoughts. This one is new, wants to hold this memory close. Pleasure washes across her face, a nice distraction from the worried look she’s been wearing since they began to work together. He watches as her hands trail under her shirt and the other pushes against her underwear, intimately aware of herself and the lack of hurry she takes. Tiny noises slip out of her, her hands picking up the pace.

  


It’s good to know some things still remain the same, feeling himself lose what little air he has left as he’s entranced. He really never had a chance against her, had been doomed from the moment she had set foot in the agency.

 

The contentment he felt when she told Jung Dae fills him again as he watches the absolute trust she has in this room, watches as she brings herself to the edge and to know that he is hers just as much as she is his and they’ve gone past the point of no return. Only when he hears her soft cry of “ _Da Il_ ” does he get his thoughts confirmed, a feeling like sunlight entering him when she comes.

 

Her eyes shutter open, a look of contentment rolling by her face as she gets up and yelps when she sees him. She curls up into herself. She grabs her pants from the floor as a blush overtakes her cheeks, her eyes barely looking up to him.

 

“What are you doing here?” She says, covering her legs. He grabs her jacket on the other part of the desk to put over her thighs as she bites the top of her fist, still looking away from him.

 

“I came because someone called me. Was it you?”

 

“I….I think so,” she puts the pants aside, the jacket covering her bare legs. It’s cute, despite the context and he can’t help but feel that he wants to undo the shyness in her so that she could reveal more of herself to him. He feels himself aligning to her, his closest companion and how she’s in his thoughts that he remembers her whenever he comes to after nine in the morning.

 

“Do you think of me often?” He asks. She nods, halting like she would take it back. It’s endearing, how she’s an open book and wears her heart on her sleeve. She was vibrant, tenacious and tried her best; he’s seen lesser men crumble under what she’s already experienced. He can’t really feel much in this in-between state but the air feels charged as he makes his way towards the chair across from the lounge. Her face is turned away, the bright blush fading to something lighter, and he can see past the edge of her hair, the angry marks around her neck.

 

He feels guilt at the mark, can’t stand to even be in this state of half-reality if he ever manages to harm a hair on her. He also knows that if it comes down to it, he trusts Jung Dae to do what he told him. She takes a breath to look up. Faint circles go under her eyes, betraying the fact that all the living members of the agency are running close to empty, haunted by old and new ghosts.

 

“I worry about you, so of course I think about you.” She scoots forward on the lounge, her socked feet just barely touching his shoes. He wants so little, to be real to give her what she wants, to see the day after tomorrow with her and many more. But he also knows that what they want might not or could not happen. He can’t leave another mark on Yeo Wool, not after everything she’s been through. He can’t leave her with another body

 

“We can’t...be together,” he says, holding her eyes. He realizes that his want was more than anything he’d felt in a while, wants to feel her and to do things to her like she had done in his office. It really is such a shame that they’d met so late. She keeps her gaze steady, the jacket lifting up higher and higher. “You know that I could leave, right?”  She nods, leaning forward.

 

“I know. I just - I want to have you in whatever way I can.”

 

Ghost rules be damned, he leans forward to presses his lips against her forehead. She gasps, looks up as he brushes her hair past again. She could always feel him and even though he ran the risk, the brushes with her have never been as bad as brushes with others. He motions for her to lean up against the lounge, tugging at the jacket. She watches him, eyeing the jacket that’s been pushed aside to see him settle besides her.

 

He isn’t real but he acts like it, the spectral weight of him just barely brushing her. He keeps playing at her hair, pushing her up against the lounge and the wall.

 

“I want you to tell me what you want me to do to you.”

 

“I want you, however you can,” she says. He brushes past her underwear, her skin aware of the coolness. She pushes the fabric away, aware of the silence they say.

 

“What did you think of?”

 

“You. Only you. Touching me everywhere,” she says, her fingers going inside of her again. He watches her for a little, lets her talk instead. “How you feel a little cold, like the wind and that it feels nice.” He places his hand on her thigh as she does so, hears the sharp inhale she does that makes her fingers falter. He thinks of his hands becoming solid to join her in her center, her hands falling away. He cannot feel anything besides his own hand and her center, but not as much. He reminds himself that this is a risk and he shouldn’t do it but with Yeo Wool lying beside him and breaths going shallow, his reminder crumbles. All he knows is he cannot hurt her, but he can tell her to focus.

 

“I need you to keep talking for me,” he says, her eyes glue to his face. “How it feels. Remember that I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

 

She nods.

 

“Cool, your hands feel bigger than I remember.” He brushes his fingers inside her, matching the pace he saw her do earlier. He doesn’t feel the vertigo he feels when he’s about to snap, feels lucid than he has in days as she stops speaking. Her arm outstretched on top of his, thighs clenched as he takes his time. He’s glad he’s not alive for this part because while he has restraint, it’s not that good and he probably would have taken her in the chair immediately and multiple ways. She looks like a painting, draped alongside him in the chair, hair sticking to her forehead.

 

“You deserve someone alive,” he says as he watches her eyes close. “How many times have you thought about a dead man touching you? You need someone alive.” He goes faster, the coolness of him making her even warmer.

 

“I only want you,” she laughs, breathless. “You’re not dead yet, not if I can help it.” He can hear that she gets close, feels the exhale because of her proximity. 

 

“How does it feel now?” He watches as she clenches her thighs tighter, brushing up against his form.

 

“Just right,” she sighs as she comes, panting against him. He doesn’t know how long he has left with her so he grabs the jacket from the floor to put over her again. She sighs again, brushing up closer against him when she closes her eyes and sleeps.


End file.
